A Sweet Life
by Annabeth Black
Summary: "Listeners, today I had a nightmare..." There is not just one voice on the community radio in Night Vale. There has never been just one. Tonight a second host finally speaks about their nightmare on the air... but why? Content Warning: Swearing
1. Chapter 1

Listeners, today I had a nightmare.

It was not, as you may first think, one of the government mandated nightmares that, at this very moment in time, we should all be sharing.

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No.

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It was a very different kind of nightmare all together. A nightmare that I should not have had, for I should not have been sleeping, but I was and that is a fact. And in that moment when I was sleeping, when the rest of this violet and secretly monitored town went about its daily, chaotic business, I was not me but a girl. I was asleep, but I was a girl at the same time. I was a girl in a country that is far, far away from our quaint desert community. I was a girl in a country that is far, far away but at the same time it is not far enough. I don't know who thought that. Was it her? Was it me? Maybe it was the both of us. Maybe it was neither of us. Hopefully it was just a dream.

Hopefully it was just a dream, non-governmental nightmare, about a girl in a country far, far away, in a town of significant religious importance to everyone but its citizens. If it wasn't a dream then my heart aches for this girl. Her heart aches too, I felt it. Whilst I was sleeping, whilst I was the girl, I could feel her heart ache in her chest as if it were my own. But it was not my own. It couldn't be. It was hers, I'm sure of it.

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Have you ever been heart broken, listeners?

I have not. I have never loved, nor have I been loved. I have seen love. I have heard it – we've all heard it. Our daytime host, Cecil, is not exactly conservative when it comes to matters of his extraordinarily large heart. He brought an x-ray of his heart in once, to show to all of you out there. He left it in this booth so I saw it too: large, red and pulsing within its ghostly white prison there on the page. For something so large it looked shockingly fragile. One small squeeze and I'm sure it would burst like a cooked tomato between my fingers. So shockingly fragile…

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I have never been heart broken. I have never loved, nor have I been loved and that is a fact. Before my nightmare, I had never experienced a broken heart first hand. Now I have and I am forever changed.

The symptoms of a broken heart are hard to detect. Masks are everything and this girl wore such a clever one. Smiles are the best mask, especially when those looking at it do not wish to see past it. This girl would walk, work and socialise with a smile. Not a grin, not a grimace, nor a sneer. Just a small smile, big enough to be noticed, small enough to be unquestioned. She smiled when people were looking and sometimes when they weren't. She couldn't fool herself into being happy though. She was alone, abandoned, forgotten by the one she still desperately loved.

It was sad and pathetic.

It was beautiful.

She walked and worked until her feet were sore and her hands burnt. This girl was a waitress, or maybe a janitor. She might have made sandwiches, or perhaps it was coffee. Who knows? It was just a nightmare after all. A nightmare full of meaningless half-routines and hidden tears, or internal screaming so loud that my ears bled, and of dead-eyed looks in the mirror.

These things that I have listed to you, listeners, are not scary. They are painful and unpleasant, but they are not scary. They are not why it was a nightmare. Nightmares are designed to make us fear and now, in my real body, I am not afraid. I know where I am. I know what will hurt me (which is, of course, everything) and I know who is to be trusted (no one). But when I was asleep and, at the same time, this girl, I did not know that. Every friendly face, every unfriendly face, and all those in between, were to be trusted but at the same time they were dangerous. They were unknown and terrifying because they could hurt me, they could hurt the girl, but they could also save her. We could have been killed or saved by any number of people… but we weren't.

I wasn't.

She wasn't.

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And this girl, who was so sad, made me sad too. I felt her heart breaking every time someone stared through her, or brushed past her, or didn't speak to her even if they claimed to be her friend.

People are blind and cruel and stupid. They cannot help it. They cannot help this girl either. They cannot help the girl hurting so hard that when I awoke, her pain stayed with me. I carry this pain now, when I ought to be sleeping, just as all of you are. I am defying the law and my contract by being awake during my hours of broadcast and for this I am sorry.

But I'm not.

I am in pain and I am indifferent.

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Hours ago I awoke not completely myself. In my nightmare I had been this girl and in my reality afterwards I was still partly her. I can still feel her aching heart beat right next to my own. Two lonely hearts, side by side.

How poetic.

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How deadly.

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 _[Inhale_ ]

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[ _Exhale_ ]

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Can you smell that listeners? The sun is rising.

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As you wake up, as you all wake up together like the single-minded organism that you are, I slink off into the increasing light.

Thank you for finally hearing my voice, Night Vale.

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Did you know, it's a sweet life?

[ _Static_ ]


	2. Chapter 2

I fell asleep again today listeners.

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I was trying so hard not to. For weeks and weeks I've been trying not to sleep other than at city-council mandated times but I did and it was painful. My day-time counterpart, Cecil Palmer, was crooning over snapchats of his scientist boyfriend and levitating cat in the staff room earlier and his voice… his voice lured me away from consciousness and into another nightmare.

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She's not doing well listeners. She's not doing well at all.

Like me, she doesn't sleep anymore. I could feel the weight of consciousness crushing down on our shoulders. I could feel the burn in our eyes as they so desperately wanted to close. We fought and we fought but it was no good. Just as I was, she too was enticed into a deep sleep where she couldn't escape him.

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We were both at his mercy.

Before today, listeners, I had no idea who the culprit was who caused so much pain and misery. Now I do. His face is seared into my memory, just as he is in hers. His name is carved into my heart, an identical tattoo to hers.

Alex.

His name tastes like earthworms and sour milk in my mouth. In hers it was warm and metallic, like blood.

Such a simple, ordinary name. Such an upsetting scene invoked by its sound.

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From how it felt when she woke up, this wasn't the first time he had charmed her in a dream. The whispers in her ear were familiar and welcome when we both knew they should not be. The aching in her chest was not new. The tears that created burning streaks down her cheeks were part of her morning routine. The phantom hand lingering under her chin was commonplace. She had loved it when he tilted her head up so he could kiss her… I know that now.

Hearing Alex seduce her into taking him back was not as painful for me as it was for her. In these nightmares we are one and the same… but when she wakes and I do not, well, it is the only time we are ever really our own selves. We are separate in that brief moment. I can still feel her pain though. I feel everything she does but for a moment I understood that the pain was not my own. The heartache wasn't mine. It was hers.

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I cherished that moment.

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Listeners, I am worried.

I am worried about a list of things:

I am worried this girl is real.

I am worried that she will go after Alex and I am even more worried that she will get hurt.

I am worried that her nightmares will become real too and that he will ask for her back.

I am definitely worried that she'll say yes.

But, listeners, more than that, I am worried that this is not real at all. I am worried that my mind is making up horrors that I could consciously never imagine.

I am worried… why?

Who do you go to in a time like this? A dream doctor? They make dreams, not explain them! A regular doctor? There's no such thing!

I have no friends and no family. You, listeners asleep wherever you dropped, are all I have. What do you think this is? Am I crazy? Should I try and stop the dreams, or should I try to find out if they are real?

I'm so lost and confused listeners.

I am lost and confused and worried and scared.

I am also awake when I should not be, and that is dangerous.

I was not caught the last time I was awake. For days I thought the Secret Police might knock down my door and drag me to away to be re-educated but they did not. No, instead they knocked down my door, stole the last leftover slice of my Big Rico's wheat and wheat-by product-free pizza slice from the fridge and then left, leaving the door lying face down on the floor. What a mess that was listeners. I do not own a hammer or nails or anything that can mend what is broken. In the end I just threw a blanket over the door and boarded up the doorway... I get in and out of my house through the window now.

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I want to say that it is a sweet life. Perhaps, here in Night Vale, it is. Here we are not blind to the dangers of the world (unless, of course, they have thrown dust in our eyes in a cheap attempt to gain the upper hand). We may have our secrets, yes, but we do not break each other's hearts. We let poison cripple them for us. But at least the poison is honest with its intentions! The world outside our quaint little town does not seem very friendly or safe. I don't want to be xenophobic but if people really do hurt each other in both waking moments and dreams then I do not want them here. Someone needs to teach these outsiders to use their powers for good because surely taunting those who are hurting is evil? I mean, good and evil are definitely subjective but I think we can all agree that if you hurt someone, rubbing it in while they sleep and making them think otherwise is just a dick move. Right?

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I have to know, listeners, I just have to. But where to begin? I don't even know her name. But this is a problem for another time, I believe. I'm sure you can all hear the screeching of the Sun rising. My turmoil is a problem for another day. Now I must rest.

Not sleep.

Rest.

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No matter what I feel right now, listeners, here, in Night Vale, we truly live a sweet life.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a cry for help.

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It is not my cry. No. It is a cry for help from that girl in my nightmares. It is a cry for help from a girl in a far off land. This is a cry for help from a girl with nice friends and a loving family and a doting boyfriend. This is a cry for help from a girl with all of that who still feels all alone. She feels invisible. Like she is reaching out a hand, waving it in people's faces, saying "look, I'm here. Notice me. Talk to me. I take an interest in you all the time. Please take an interest in me." Nobody sees her though. She is invisible, and alone, and crying for help.

Have you ever been so desperate to talk to somebody, listeners? So desperate to interact with someone else on any kind of social level, but at the same time you don't dare try because you're scared of rejection? Like, you'll try talking to your sister or your friend or your partner but then the conversation will die so quickly and you can't restart it. Like, you can't even pick up the phone or send a text to an acquaintance or a loved one because you're scared that they're too busy or not interested and it just breaks your sweet little heart because all you want is to be seen. Nobody wants to see you though. Nobody wants to see her.

Nobody wants to see my girl in the far off place. She's just like the rest of us: anxious and unseen and waiting for somebody to make the first move for a change. She always seems to make the first move.

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Nobody is going to make that move.

She is going to sit, alone in the dark, and stare at a glowing computer screen. No one is going to pop up to say hi though. Nobody knows how she feels. She should tell them but she's scared.

Rejection is scary.

So she sits, and waits for what she knows is never coming. And she cries because she is scared and alone. And she asks for help, reaches a hand out. Her hand pierces the dreamscape and presents itself to me. In my nightmares she asks for my help.

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I can't give it to her. Surely I cannot?

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I fall asleep more regularly now. I've been seeing this girl for months. For a while she was happy. She found someone new and he proved that he loved her. They were going to get married. They still might. But he's gone away for now and she is alone. So very alone. She relies on him for company, for support. He relies on her for nothing. Still, they are happy. Except right now she's not. She misses him more, no matter what he might say. Without him she is alone again in her room because without him, she is invisible.

Without another she has always been, and will always be, invisible.

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Life is exhausting. Existing… it is exhausting. Existing as someone other than just yourself, well, that just drains your entire soul.

Sleep is supposed to bring you rest. All it ever seems to do is drain me more.

I can't live this way Night Vale. I can't.

This is my cry for help now.

Can we please just stop ignoring this girl? Can someone please just reach out to her? Take care of her so I can sleep. All I want is to close my eyes and see nothing, to close my eyes and _be_ nothing. I want this goddamn girl to be noticed and healed and not sad anymore. It wasn't so bad when she was happy. But she's not happy any more. God damn it, someone just listen to her!

This is a cry for help. Help her so she can help me.

Why does she have to be so sad? Why does she have to feel so small and insignificant? She is not a nobody! She is a somebody with people who will notice her eventually. If she went missing they would take a day or so but they would notice! Does she know that? I know that so she must do but I don't know! Just look at her! Make her feel valued because she is crying again and again and I don't know how she can feel this vulnerable!

 _GOD DAMN IT_!

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I'm sorry that that got so aggressive. I haven't spoken in so long. I haven't spoken about her in so long and things just build up sometimes, you know? Like an exploding pressure cooker or something. I just… I feel her every pain and heart ache more than I ever could feel my own. It's like there's a big ball of fire trapped in my chest, burning me but not with heat? More like pressure, pushing out and out until I'm sure my heart will explode but it never quite does. I feel like that all the time now.

She just needs to be reassured, you know? Just, someone please go and find this girl. Sit down with her and give her a little bit of attention without her prompting it. Make her feel loved and valued. She deserves it.

Jesus shit.

She deserves it.

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I keep saying it's a sweet life, listeners. That's my sign off. That's my catchphrase. It's my trademark. I have to say it now. Maybe if I say it enough it'll be true. It is always true for someone anyway. Maybe not here but somewhere someone must be living a sweet life…

Right?


End file.
